Thomas O’Connor: Chaplain’s Assistant
Thomas J. O’Connor Jr. and I met for coffee and conversation June 16, 2017 at the McDonald’s on Breitegaße in the old city center of Nürnberg. He and his German wife, Rita, live in Lauf an der Pegnitz, a town of some 26,000 population east of Nürnberg. My first impression was that his quiet disposition cloaked a strong personality. I was eager to learn more about this gentleman.
Thomas grew up in Providence, Rhode Island and went to Providence College, where he studied political science, Latin, and French. He served in the Army from October, 1968 until September, 1971.
“It must have been scary to get a draft notice in '68,” I said.
“Yeah. A little bit scary. They were drafting for the Marines too. I couldn't tolerate that Marine Corp bullshit.” Thomas had good scores on the GT (General Technical) battery of tests, so he qualified for a MOS (Military Occupational Specialty) in stock control and accounting in Europe—an attractive alternative to combat in Viet Nam that was worth the commitment of an extra year of military service. “I was stationed in Kitzingen— Larson Barracks. My MOS was 76P, stock control.”
Rita
Thomas met Rita at the “Contact Club,” a German-American friendship organization, in Würzburg. She was co-president of the club. She lived in Bad Bergenheim, a lovely spa town about 30 miles from Würzburg. Rita’s parents had no problem with her marrying an American, as long as she completed her schooling. They dated until he was discharged from the Army in 1971, and then Rita came to the States separately, on a K-1 visa (for someone who intends to marry an American within 90 days of arrival). The couple wed in 1972, in Providence, Rhode Island.
“You've been married all this time,” I said, “to one woman. Congratulations!”
“Some of 'em [G.I.s] have had, I don't know how many, wives.”
“Army life must be hard on a marriage,” I said.
“The military messes everything up,” said O’Connor.
O’Connor returned to his old job with the Social Security Administration, but Rita, a nurse, was unable to work at first because her credentials were not accepted in the U.S. She found the adjustment difficult, but she eventually got her nursing license, and their first child, Christian Thomas, was born in 1973. Still, she was not terribly happy in the U.S. and missed her family in Germany.
Back to Germany
“After five years, Thomas said, “my wife felt the need to go back to Germany. That's when I signed up with the Army again.”
So, in 1976, Thomas reenlisted. His only option to get to Europe was artillery, so he went through training at Ft. Sill, Oklahoma for “Cannon Cocker,” (MOS 13-B).
But when he got to Germany, Thomas worked his way into a chaplain's assistant MOS. “They wanted somebody who was Catholic,” he said.
“So, chaplain's assistant. That was pretty good duty,” I said.
Thomas served the balance of his second enlistment as a chaplain’s assistant in Würzburg. When it came time to reenlist, he requested the Chaplain’s Assistant School at Ft. Monmouth, New Jersey. That training, over a period of several months, prepared him to assist Catholic, Protestant, and Jewish clergy.
“As a chaplain's assistant, you had to understand the requirements of various religions, I suppose.”
“Yeah. Don't make the rabbi do any work on Friday night. Ha-ha. We had Rabbi Dana. He was a stickler for this, that, and the other. He came in from Nürnberg to Würzburg once or twice a month.”
“Oh, were there a lot of Jewish soldiers?”
“No, I don't think so. In fact, when they fortified the gates at Larson Barracks because of the terrorist threat, they had to give members of their congregation [who lived off base] post passes to get in.
Balancing the needs of various religious communities required flexibility. For example, a Catholic holy day once landed on a Friday night, so mass had to be said an hour earlier than scheduled.
Thomas liked being a chaplain’s assistant much better than his old MOS as a “cannon cocker” in the artillery. His duties included setting up the chapel for Catholic, Protestant, and Jewish services. He even sang in the choir.
“So, you worked Sundays?” I asked.
“I'd get a day off during the week. Sometimes the first sergeant kind of messed that up, but I screwed his head on straight a couple of times.”
“Did you have to pull KP or other duties?”
“I pulled CQ (Charge of Quarters), but they could not put me on Friday night, Saturday, or Sunday. One time they had a housing cleanup, and some damned idiot called me to work on the day of the housing cleanup, so the guy who was in charge called me up and said I was going to have to do mine on Saturday. I said, ‘No I'm not. Not going to happen. Go chew the first sergeant out. He didn't follow the yellow line. I ain't doing nothing on Saturday. You see me doing mail on Saturday it's because I feel like doing it. Give somebody else a day off. Cause I probably got to work Saturday night at the chapel anyway.”
During O’Connor’s second tour in Germany, he had relatively cushy assignments as chaplain’s assistant, company clerk, and mailroom clerk. His wife could go back to work, and they had their second child. It was a good hitch, except for the usual irritations that go along with Army life.
“I was the company clerk for a while. That wasn't too bad a job—until Capain. Zuba came around. Complete wacko. He was made for the infantry, and he couldn't find it. He had a road march one time. He tried to get the band to do it too. A G1 told him, sir, they will do PT, but that is not PT. Zuba was nuts.”
“So, you were over here three years, then what?”
“I had orders for Ft. Hood. I did not like Ft. Hood. I finally got out of that place, came back here, and got a civilian job.”
“So, you finished up your second hitch at Ft. Hood, and your wife had stayed over here?”
“Yeah.”
Civilian Career in Germany
“And you decided to get out of the Army and go back to Germany as a civilian.”
“Yep. I came back over here in 1981, put in for a postal job as a unit mail clerk, and they started giving me this stuff at CTO saying they had to hire family members. I said, ‘No, you gotta hire veterans.’ I wrote my father's congressman. He was head of the finance committee—not a guy you want to piss off.”
“So, it worked, and you got a job as a civilian employee of the Defense Department?”
“Yeah, that worked. They sent a list down; I think it had a note on it saying ‘You must hire this guy.’”
Thomas worked in the postal facility at Leighton Barracks in Würzburg as a civilian employee from 1981 to 2003. He went home at night to his wife and children. His wife, Rita, worked as a nurse. They bought a home. It was a normal life, except for a spat of terrorist activity in Germany that tightened security at Leighton Barracks.
How did you like working as a civilian for the postal facility?”
“It was pretty good. I just wound up in four or five different places. I was in Wertheim for a while. The lead postal clerk position was posted for that location, and the guy who was the lead postal clerk for Leighton said, Tom, you might as well put in for it, because I talked to people, and nobody wants it.”
“So that was a promotion?”
“Yeah. I was a GS-4 and got to GS-5. After Wertheim closed, they moved me to Giebelstadt. Then I moved to head of operations at Wallenberg.”
“Was your wife able to use her nursing skills wherever you were transferred, or did she stay put?”
“She stayed in Würzburg.”
“Was that difficult, a lot of separation?”
“No, Wertheim isn't that far, maybe a half hour to get home at night.
Children
Your children grew up as what, Germans? Americans?”
“They had dual citizenship.”
“Do they vote in both elections?”
“I don't think they vote in Stateside elections.”
“But they could if they wanted to?”
“They probably could if they wanted to.”
“Okay, and they have passports from both countries?”
“Yes.”
O’Connor’s children attended German schools, although his daughter transferred to the American school in Würzburg. She works as an assistant manager at Burger King. Their son works in Slovakia.
Politics
Thomas votes in U.S. elections when he can. He has to go the U.S. consulate in Munich to vote. He supports President Trump’s policies, including immigration.
“What is the German feeling right now about the U.S.?”
“I don't think some of them like Trump, but that's what we needed.”
“So, they go by the news I guess, but personally they're as open and friendly with you as ever?”
“Yeah.”
“Ever had problems, discrimination?” I asked.
“No nothing like that.”
Everyday Life in Germany
“Do you enjoy living in Germany more than you would the States?” I asked.
“Probably a little bit.”
“What do you like about Germany?”
“The festivals. They have the German-American festival every year.”
“Do you get your healthcare from the German system or the American?”
“I've got a little of both. I’ve got the VA card. I also have Medicare Part A ‘cause I'm over 65. So, if I went back to the States, I would just have to get parts B and D.”
“Are you pretty happy with the care you get?” I asked.
“I ain't happy with that clinic up in Lauf. If I have to go again, I already told the doctor that works for the court, I want to go to Landstüle next time. That's an American hospital.
“Do you still drive?” I asked.
“No. I got a MobiCard (mass transit pass). This is how I get around.”
Thomas has an email address but no computer at home, so he checks his email at an Internet café once a week.
“When did you learn German?” I asked.
“I learned a little when I was in the Army, but I can't speak that much.”
“Your wife speaks English with you?”
“Yeah.”
“Your kids speak both of course.”
“Yeah. What else my son speaks, I guess Slovakian by now. Ha-ha.”
“Any regrets about your decision to live in Germany?”
“No, not really.”
“Do you get back to the States?” I asked.
“I don't go back there that much.”
“After your first hitch in the Army, when you lived in the States, has your wife gone back with you?”
“No. Just that one time.”
“How about the kids?”
“My wife and daughter went back one time when my sister was getting married. They went back for the wedding.”
“In Providence?”
“Yeah.”
“How did they like it?”
“They thought it was all right.”
“So, you're pretty happy about the educational system over here?”
“Yeah. My daughter didn't like it too much. Bavaria is its own deal; that's why she changed to the American school.”
“When you were working at the postal facility, I asked, “was the corporate culture similar to that in the U.S.?”
“It wasn't much German; it had to be American. You had to be able to handle registered mail, that was the catch. One German told Sergeant Green one time, ‘We're going to get all these postal jobs,’ and he said, ‘No you're not.’ They [German nationals] can't handle registered mail. They don't know how to handle registered mail.”
“Do you keep in contact with family and friends in the States?”
“Not much. Once in a while. When my father died, my brother Bernie called me up. He traced down the phone number, I don't know how. Ha-ha.”
“You have family still living there?”
“My sister and three brothers. One of them hangs around Maine, so he's right near the Canadian border.”
“What do you think about the legal system here?” I asked.
“I don't like the Napoleonic Code.”
“People tell me that in the German system, you're guilty until proven innocent,” I said.
“Yeah, that's the Napoleonic Code.”
O’Connor gets retirement checks from the post office and Social Security, which may be delayed due to American holidays, but otherwise, he does not observe American holidays in a big way.
“What was the most difficult thing to get used to over here?” I asked.
“Language, mostly.”
“Did you take courses?”
“I took a few, but it's difficult. The words are not so bad, but the grammar—all them umlauts…” “Anything else?” I asked.
“We pretty much covered it all.”
“Thanks, Mr. O’Connor; it was great to meet you.”
